Unfortunate Sons
by December's Eve
Summary: All Rory Flanagan wants to do is live a normal, quiet life but a certain ability of his prevents him from doing so. Things go from weird to weirder when Sebastian Smythe saves his life. Soon enough, Rory is immersed in the world Sebastian and his brothers live in and he soon discovers there are more than a few reasons to be afraid of the dark...


**Disclaimer: **I am neither a genius like Eric Kripke, though I aspire to be like him one day. On the flip side, I am hoping against all hope that my writing is a bit more consistent than that of Ryan Murphy & Co. Either way, I am not making a profit off of any of this—it's just a fun little project, no copyright infringement intended.

**Spoilers: **None for Glee, as this is all completely AU. On Supernatural though, it is extremely spoiler-heavy as it takes place late season-two/early-season three and it will follow the basic outline of the following seasons. Hopefully it will deviate enough from canon to maintain your interest.

**Notes: **This story is, quite obviously, highly alternate universe. Before you go on let me explain to you a few of the changes I've made: The ages of our main characters: This is supposed to take place outside of high school to make things move along more easily. Without spoiling too much, Rory is now related to the Pierces; hence he is staying with them and Sebastian is the half-brother of Sam and Dean Winchester.

**Pairing(s): **Eventual Rory/Sebastian, _maybe _Dean/Castiel if the chemistry works, and Sam/Laptop because that's the best pairing in the story.

Hopefully this will make sense as the story goes along. Without further adieu, I give to youmy latest project. I hope you enjoy and I hope I finish this.

* * *

The death of Finn Hudson was no roadside accident, though Rory Flanagan would say otherwise on the chance that you asked his opinion on the matter. Then again, the chances of a person noticing Rory long enough to want to strike a conversation with him were so little, he hardly saw the point of worrying about the situation. Sad as it may seem, even in a town like Lima, Ohio, whose inhabitants called it "the people's town", Rory, for the most part, lived a life of anonymity. Back when he wanted to talk, it used to bother him when he ran into old classmates of his and they struggled to remember the name of the kid with the funny accent, but now he's become so accustomed to only talking to one or two people outside of the Pierces that he finds the solitude rather nice.

Some days are harder than others, of course, especially now more than ever with the aforementioned tragedy hanging over his head. Rory almost wants someone to say something, anything as he takes the day shift at Rays Supermarket, bagging up eggnog, brandy, hot cocoa mix, and peppermint candy canes. It's probably better that they don't say any words of condolence for the fallen football hero, only expressing empty tidings for the upcoming holiday and the occasional sarcastic remark on how irritating it must be to hear "White Christmas" a thousand times a day. To that, Rory only responds with a gentle smile and an unironic, "I love Bing Crosby" before sending his customers out into the snow, chiding himself for even thinking such thoughts.

When this happens, he goes through his list of reasons why such thoughts are stupid and inherently selfish. One, he could get fired; such morbid talk, no matter the time of year, is bad for business. Two, and this reason is tied into reason one; though Aunt Margot insists it's no issue paying for his tuition, Rory doesn't want to be a burden and insists on paying for all of his books and classes. She and Uncle Miles already provide a roof over his head, so Rory really doesn't want to infringe upon their hospitality especially since they are no longer legally obligated to care for him. Three, if he were to talk—_really _talk about the reason behind Finn Hudson's supposed accidental death; people would start to ask questions, therefore putting his comfortable position as a wallflower to a complete end.

And it's for these reasons that Rory remains quiet, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head (which sounds remarkably like his nan; rest her soul) as he reads the column written up about Finn Hudson in the obituary for the umpteenth time.

At this point, the edges of the paper are fraying and the sheet itself is so thin that were Rory to move it from its post on his desk, it would most likely tear.

Even so, he's already got the words so deeply engrained in his mind that he could repeat them in his sleep: He drove at 3 am, and then fell asleep at the steering wheel. Not a trace of alcohol was found in his system. The pick-up truck he drove somehow flipped to the side of the road, causing enough of an impact to even knock the wind out of the driver—and Finn was no small fry, standing at 6'3" with the sturdy, broad-shouldered physique considered ideal for a quarterback. Rory always tries to block his mind out when thinking about the details given of the injuries. Fractured ribs, he can handle but he mentally blanches whenever "impalement" or "decapitation" is mentioned.

This is why the upcoming funeral will be a closed casket one.

He'll be attending, at the request of his Aunt Margot, though Rory feels rather hypocritical for attending a funeral of a guy he hadn't spoken to in nearly three years. Or that was the initial argument Rory put up when she proposed the idea in the first place, resisting the urge to tell the truth _again, _only abruptly giving in when he noticed a Shade pass over the older woman. When he blinked, it was gone though the damage had already been done.

"I'll take your suit to the dry cleaner's tonight," said Aunt Margot with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "It'll be ready by Friday, just in time for the funeral."

With that, Aunt Margot turned on her heel before Rory could strike up another argument, her blonde hair swishing out of her ponytail.

And even though Rory wanted, no needed to say something, he didn't. Instead he clenched his jaw and kept quiet, chest tightening when the shade that disappeared only seconds before reappeared over his aunt's head. It was indistinct in shape though its true form would take shape soon enough.

How did he know this? Because, for the first time in nearly five years, the same shade hovered over Finn Hudson's head, taking shape, and forming a pack shortly before his untimely demise.

* * *

When explaining the phenomenon of these so-called "Shades", it is important to take these notes into account: Rory does not claim to be a psychic or a medium or anything of that ilk. He cannot foresee futuristic events, he has never any experiences communicating with the dead, nor has he ever been able to yield control over inanimate objects with the power of his mind. While he considers himself more intuitive and perceptive than the average person, this is more of a result of his extreme introversion than it is of any sort of sixth sense.

Even without the prompting of his birth family, who always claimed that "none of that nonsense is right", Rory is close-lipped on his ability.

In life most people strive desperately to be extraordinary, to stand out, and to make their mark on the world. Rory is the polar opposite; all he wants to do is fit in and fade into the background. He has his wish for the most part, except for when he sees the Shades.

There really is no better way to describe these, well, he supposes they're creatures, because that's what they appear to him as: sinister, malovent-looking shades that seem to defy the idea of matter, as they are neither liquid nor gas. They're certainly not solid because he can see through their dark, hunchbacked bodies that slink through the air as easily as a snake in an empty field. Rory is always careful to avoid staring at them for too long for fear of attracting their attention; though he can see them, he isn't quite sure they _know_ that he can see them.

Rory prays that they never will.

He doesn't really have any other name for them, nor can he explain what exactly they are. He's seen them as far back as he can remember, often on occasions where carnage and destruction of the worst sort take place. He doesn't know why this is or why he can see them.

The one thing he does know is that whenever he does see them and when they take shape, a disaster of epic proportions will occur.

* * *

In his short life, Rory had only seen the Shades on very few occasions but each time he had seen them, one thing was guaranteed: Wherever the Shades went, death was sure to follow in their path.

Of these occasions, there were two specific instances that had the most profound impact on Rory.

The first was when Rory was around seven or eight-years old, when Seamus was still a toddler and before his dad finally got the big promotion so they could buy that big house in Derry City.

Because it happened so long ago and because he's done everything in his power to forget, with both the amazing ability humans possess to suppress unwanted memories and through chemical means, the details are a bit fuzzy but a few key facts remain the same. The Shades started to appear around late July—a fact that he only remembers because he saw (what he was sure was) the first one appear over a parking meter in the town shopping centre his mother always dragged him off to. Even then Rory remained silent when he saw the first one take shape, skulking about the area and making itself hidden the way a wolf might when stalking its prey; instead, Rory held on tighter to his mum's hand and carried on.

By the end of that first shopping trip, three more Shades made their appearance, joining the first one in its unholy, wandering pack.

In the weeks that followed the number of the Shades grew: A dozen or so the day after the first four arrived, the number escalating to roughly a hundred by the end of the month. They carried on their business as they always did; slithering about, their snouts raised in the air as they went through the streets. If Rory didn't know any better, he would have said they were hungry but for what he was too scared to imagine.

It grew to the point where Rory outright refused to go out to the shops with his mum anymore. He ran away, hid in places he thought no one would find him, and begged everyone else to do the same even if it meant risking being punished. After all it was much better to hear his father shout and scream at him for "playing childish games" than take the chance of not having a father at all.

Mid-August arrived and the worst of Rory's fears were realized. He wasn't there when it happened. No one in his family was and to this very day he thanks God for that. He had been tricked into going out of town that day; apparently they were going to visit their new home. But he heard the big, earsplitting bang nonetheless. There are just some things that you can never forget.

The man on the radio, talking frantically above the shouts and screams of terrified passersby, mentioned the word "bomb" as being the cause of the cause of twenty-nine people's deaths. Because the word, "bomb" at the time, was not a regular part of Rory's vocabulary, caused the adolescent to believe he knew the real truth behind the story. By the time they returned to their normal home, thick, black smoke still covered the area. His father had to take an entirely different route because the main roads were closed off but that did not stop Rory from seeing the Shades. They swarmed the air now: Thousands of them, obstructing his view so that it appeared his father drove right through them. They appeared ravenous now, all of them veering off to the direction of the downtown shopping centre.

That was the one and only time Rory ever mentioned seeing the Shades. Rory looked up to his mother, blue eyes wide with genuine fear, as he asked, "Mammy, don't let Daddy drive!" She twisted her body around so that she could get a better look at Rory. Now he was in for it. But he had to say something, with so many of these things in the air; he couldn't allow himself to risk this. The only time he'd seen so many of these things was when the news was on and the "bomb" word was mentioned in places far away. "Can't ya see them?" he whispered.

"See what, Rory?" his mum asked, the tone of her voice already indicating that she was growing short with him.

He had to make this quick. But words failed him now. Rory opened and closed his mouth, hoping for some sound to come out to no avail.

"What is it that you see, Rory?" she tried again.

"The Shades," he finally said. Now that he'd found his will to speak, the words came out frantic. A big, rushed out blur. "They're headin' toward the shopping centre. That's why I'm scared ta go out, that's why _you_ should be scared." And he jumped back as the car drove through more of them. Why wasn't his father stopping? "They're the reason the bomb—"

And that was when his mother reached out to slap him.

Rory's hand immediately flew up to his cheek. Moira Flanagan was not a violent woman. She hardly used her hand to punish Rory when he got out of line, only when he did something bad with mal intent. So when she slapped him for simply trying to warn her of the current danger they were in, all Rory could do was stare up in shock. The only good that came out of this was that Rory's father had finally taken this as his cue to pull off to the side of the road so that everyone could calm down.

After apologizing to Rory for hitting him when he did not deserve it, he was allowed to explain himself. He told his parents of everything he saw for the past few weeks. Surprisingly enough they did not stop him, despite the uneasiness so clearly etched upon their faces from hearing someone so young recounting something so _unnatural._

When at last he finished, Rory's mother spoke again. "Rory," she exhaled, looking upon her youngest son with an expression of the utmost concern, "The thing ya need to know is that there are some things that can't be explained. In this case, it's not anythin' supernatural that set the bomb off. You're imaginin' things on that end, son. In most cases the evil of human nature is much, much more terrifyin' than anythin' the realm of the unknown could bring." And she reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb. "That's somethin' I don't want ya to worry about for a long time. Think no more of it. It's not right."

So he did and that was the end of that.

* * *

The second and, overall more profound, moment occurred when he was fifteen years of age.

School had finally let out for the summer and Rory had finished up with the last of his exams, feeling rather confident that he'd done well on most of them. As a way of celebrating, the entire family decided to take a weekend trip out to Belfast. Since they had more time to spare than they ordinarily would, it made perfect sense to choose the Causeway Coast as the route to their final destination. After all, was there any better way to spend some much needed family time than spending hours on end in a car with nothing but the company of your loved ones and a view of the sea? No wonder it was the road recommended most for tourists. Even now, when Rory closes his eyes he can still picture the enormous piles upon piles of hexachord-shaped basalt rocks stacked one on top of the other, seeming to stretch out into infinity, only disappearing where the ebb and flow of the sea began.

Despite the memories attached to this particular spot, the Giant's Causeway is, without a doubt, one of the most gorgeous places that Rory has ever seen.

While his parents stopped to go unload the car and pay for the toll so they could stop at one particular resting spot, Rory and his now nine-year-old brother, Seamus, had wandered off to climb over the rocks.

The first half of the trip was rather enjoyable for the two boys. Since their father had a rather difficult client to deal with, he hung back in the car a little while longer to finish up his business; their mother stayed as well, stating that she needed to get everything together for their picnic. All of this meant that Seamus and Rory were free to do as they pleased: stray off as close to the edge of the cliffs as they dared, make a competition over who could leap over the tallest column, look for the most interesting shape of rock.

For the first time in the longest time, Rory and Seamus were actually getting along. Rather than arguing as the two brothers often did, they were connecting and they bounced off of each other's energies than went right at it. Just as Rory was starting to think that today was far too good to be true, a long shadow formed and passed behind Seamus's head.

_Was that…? _The rock slipped from Rory's grip and it joined the others in a reddish brown, moss-covered pile.

"Ror?" Seamus asked, looking up when he heard the sound of the rocks clinking together. "What's the matter?"

Rory blinked. Against his better judgment his eyes wandered back up, hoping that the shadow he'd seen was just a trick of light from the rare appearance of the sun. Unfortunately, this was not one of the cases. Seamus followed his brother's line of vision when he did not answer his question. Suddenly, he too drew back.

"What is that?" Seamus whispered, effectively realizing one of Rory's most deeply-rooted fears.

"Don't let it know that you know," said Rory. He took a deep breath. It was one thing to be able to see them but to have Seamus see them as well? "Let's go back and find mum and dad."

He then grabbed Seamus's hand and headed toward the car without looking back. Of course as they headed back, Seamus started to ask questions. At least a dozen or so times, and each of those times, Rory did the very same thing: put a finger to his lip and shush him. "I'll explain later," he promised, though he did not intend to keep said promise. In his head, Rory was already praying that this was just a onetime thing for his little brother.

If there was any mercy in the world, that _thing _wasn't out for them and maybe, just maybe, if he put up a convincing enough argument, they could outrun it. Looking back on it, Rory realizes now what a stupid, selfish, and utterly childish thought this was but at the time, a foolish sense of hope was the only thing he could hold onto. After all, he hadn't seen or thought of the Shades in years. Why would they suddenly appear to him now?

But that all the hoping and praying in the world was for naught.

They ended up having that picnic by the sea. Rory's father had finally (and rather unhappily) settled his dispute with the client and would hear no pleas about taking their lunch elsewhere. "We are not goin' to have our lunch in the parkin' lot of some fast food restaurant," said his father, a note of finality in his tone as everyone settled their supplies beneath a particularly spectacular column of basalt.

Just as Rory was about to admit defeat Seamus spoke up. "We _can't_," he insisted, "there are bad things here. I saw it—"

That was when both their mother and father paused.

"Seamus," their mum began, her face suddenly ashy. "Stop it. We don't—"

"Wegottagohome," Seamus cut in.

"Seamus," their father tried.

Rory could see one now. He got up from his seat. And another.

"_Wegottagohome_," Seamus repeated again. "Rory." He turned to his brother, tears springing in his eyes. "Tell them, you can see them too!"

Rory shook his head, his face going hot. "Seamus, I said—" He looked between his parents. "You were just imaginin' things."

"Liar!" Seamus shouted. "I can see one now." His eyes were fixated on the same spot Rory's were, just above his father's head. "And I know that you can see them too."

"Seamus," Rory tried again.

Seamus simply shook his head. "I hate you," he half whispered, half sobbed, completely throwing Rory off track. Rory drew back from his brother and the rest of his family. As much as they argued, Seamus had never told him _that. _Then, not ten seconds after he uttered those three words, a rather large rock came tumbling down. Seamus, his mother, and father all scrambled up to escape, but many others came crashing down after. Seamus's foot got caught in between the cracks of one of the rocks. And, before he had a chance to take back his words, all three of them were buried beneath that once spectacular collapsed column.

"Seamus!" Rory screamed, leaping forward—only to be yanked back by a person from the rescue team that came too late.

Sirens now filled the air. The Shades that he'd seen earlier were swarming all around the destruction. Even before the team renounced their search, Rory knew the result of what he'd seen.

To this day, everyone tells him he was lucky to be alive, that he got away in time from this so-called freak accident.

The way Rory sees it, he wishes that he'd joined his family; they paid the price for his inadequacy and inaction.

* * *

Rory makes sure to keep a close eye on Aunt Margot, as well as his Uncle Miles and Brittany; he hasn't caught sight of the shades in days but there's always the chance they might show up again. It's why he does what he can to ensure they're never alone at all times, volunteering to accompany them when they set out to do their daily errands. He sticks close to them, his hand pressed flat against the small of their backs, hurrying them into the light as he turns his gaze back to the places where the shadows form, silently willing any shades that even contemplate making an appearance to go back to that dark realm where they belong.

He realizes how peculiar his behavior must look but he can't help but cling to the remaining members of his kin the same way a newborn does to its mother.

_It's only until Friday, _he keeps on telling himself when he dodges everyone's rightfully suspicious looks, _it's only until Friday._

Though it seems like an eternity away, Friday finally comes and when it does, a renewed feeling of dread settles in Rory's stomach.

The suit may be pressed from the dry cleaner's but it fits all wrong; it's too short in many places and it hangs off his body in the wrong way. Because Rory owns none of his own, he has to borrow a tie from his Uncle Miles and the only one that he's willing to part with for the occasion is an ugly mustard colored one. Thankfully the buttons come up far enough to disguise the large grease stain that's right in the middle of the miserable scrap of rayon. Rory feels clumsy and awkward as he smooths down the imaginary wrinkles in the faded black polyester fabric; then again, maybe that's how he should feel. After all, he really has no business attending the funeral in the first place.

Rory just feels a bit guilty for showing up looking the way he does. Even if he drifted apart from Finn Hudson in his last years of life, he wishes that he owned nicer looking clothing to show his respect for the guy.

Unfortunately there is very little time to fuss over the state of his appearance because by the time Rory is finished getting ready, there is less than a half hour until the funeral starts. The first thing that Brittany says when she sees him is, "I thought that leprechauns could make their clothes grow if they got too tall. Can you do that? Today is sad enough as it is and just looking at you is making things worse."

"It's not _that _bad," says Aunt Margot, though Rory can tell she's lying by the way she purses her lips. She goes up to Rory and fingers at the fabric of his suit hopelessly. "Well, you got this when you were still living in Ireland." _Northern Ireland, _Rory's mind automatically corrects but he says nothing. Even after four years of living with them, they often forget these sorts of technicalities. "We'll get you a new one the next time we go shopping."

Rory merely nods, continuing his silence as he steps into the cupboard under the stairs to grab his wool winter coat. As he tucks his black and red houndstooth scarf into the front of his coat, Rory catches both Brittany and Aunt Margot eyeing his suit critically. He then wonders if they intend to throw it out. He hopes not. Ugly as it is, it's one of the remaining relics from back home; his mum was the one who picked it out back when it looked nice and to lose it because it was deemed unacceptable would be nothing short of killing him. Before Rory has the chance to voice his concerns, Uncle Miles honks the car from the driveway and he's suddenly ushered out the door.

Not surprisingly, finding parking anywhere near the Lima Memorial Chapel is next to impossible, so they end up having to find a place a few blocks down. It looks as though everyone in the entire town showed up to the funeral including a few people from out of town, judging by the way the line to get inside the chapel extends out of the front door.

As Rory stares at the back of heads some of them belonging to people he knows or knew before, most of them perfect strangers, he can't help but wonder how many of them actually knew Finn Hudson. There is no question that he was a popular guy. Back in his glory days, the guy was a hero, the All-American football hero who led McKinley to its first victory in years, as well as the school's former joke of a glee club to place first at Nationals. First he dated the girl with golden hair and a smile made of sunshine, then the lovely brunette ingénue with a voice that made angels cry. When the time to graduate came, he got earned a scholarship to play football at some college in Texas. In essence, all that Rory really knows of the guy is that he lived the life that he once desired.

_And now he's dead. _

A sigh escapes Rory's lips as the line moves up. Sometimes he really shouldn't be allowed to think. Now is not the time to worry about himself and his relationship with the guy, but to mourn the fact that he's deceased. A death that could have been prevented had he taken a more advantageous course of action, his guilty conscience accuses him. One of many deaths that could have been prevented had he done right with his ability.

"Shut up," Rory says, not realizing that he'd spoken his thoughts out loud until a person in front of him turns around to glare at him. He turns red almost immediately, then mumbles a quick apology.

He then resolves to keep quiet and make himself invisible once again.

* * *

The Hudson-Hummel clan should have known better than to choose such a small place to host the funeral. At best, the Lima Memorial Chapel can comfortably host around a hundred and fifty people. By the time Rory and the rest of his family manages to get in, he estimates there are nearly twice the amount of people in here and the number just keeps growing but by some miracle they manage to squeeze a spot in one of the aisles anyhow.

Once everyone is not-so-comfortably seated, the funeral begins.

A few minutes into the service and already Rory is finding it difficult to pay attention to the service. While the pastor drones on about the fragility of life, about how loved Finn Hudson was and how he's in a better place now, Rory can't help but allow his eyes to wander about. There are hundreds of people all dressed in a sea of black, some of them huddled up in groups of two or three. They all cling onto each other as though they were each other's lifelines, their shoulders shaking and sobs wracking out of their bodies as they struggle to keep control of themselves.

Try as he might, Rory is unable to shed more than a few tears, even as several people stand up front on the podium to speak of Finn's accomplishments in life. Those that had trouble maintaining control of themselves lose their composure midway between Rachel Berry's hysterics and Noah Puckerman's reminiscing. He certainly feels sympathy for the people around him and he is sorry for the loss but the truth is, but that's about it; instead of feeling bad that he doesn't feel worse about the ordeal, he takes to holding Brittany as she sobs into his arms, stroking her soft, cornsilk hair and whispering words of comfort.

For some reason, staring at such a sight of sadness brings his mind back to the Shades though there are certainly none infesting this particular place. Perhaps it's all the black that people are dressed in, but Rory can't help thinking of the one he'd seen hovering above Finn Hudson's head, then again over Aunt Margot's head. _Where are they? _It must be the feeling of claustrophobia, of being trapped by so many bodies that makes him anxious to see them once again. But the only thing that strikes him as particularly strange about this funeral is the fact that after Rachel excuses herself from the podium; she takes a seat near the front and to immediately accept the comfort offered by the arms of Jacob Ben Israel.

He supposes that he ought to be grateful. Whatever business the Shades had in Lima is supposedly gone. And by the time the funeral for the town comes to a close, Rory somehow manages to convince himself that this is the truth; the tragedy ends here and with the funeral out of the way, he can just take this death as a tragedy he can move on from once his family does the same. It's not much of a comfort but it's all that he can give himself at this point.

If that were the case though, there wouldn't be much of a story to tell, now would there be?

* * *

**Notes: **Well…that was quite a bit to take in. I'm really, really worried about whether or not this is dull or if it makes any sense. Obviously this is taking a much darker twist on the Glee characters (Rory especially) but they have to be darker in order to fit in this universe.

The concept of "Shades" is not my own at all. I'm basing them both off of a creature I found in Celtic mythology as well as the workings of Dean Koontz. I really, really recommend that you read any work of his because he's a genius and I've loved every book of his to date.

This is my first venture into the horror/supernatural genre, so forgive me if it reads a bit odd. I'm still adjusting to this particular style of writing. (Anything that isn't fluff, really.)

No worries, Sebastian will make his appearance next chapter and you will get to see how he interacts with the Winchesters. Hopefully the writing will be a bit more fast-paced in this. Rory is just a bit more in his own world, hence the pace that it reads at.

Anyhow, reviews are a new friend for poor little Rory. And he needs them! So, tell me your thoughts?

Thank you so much to my friend, Shannon, for reading this chapter before and helping me with it as well as my real life friends for tolerating this idea for months.

Good day and happy reading. I'm off to rewatch season three of Supernatural now!


End file.
